


Lead

by bonehandledknife (ladywinter), Primarybufferpanel (ArwenLune)



Series: The Mountains Are The Same [38]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Austeyr volunteers as tribute, F/M, Internalized racism, Medical Procedures, Multi, Sexual Content, Wasteland surgery, and also for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 10:21:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5662774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladywinter/pseuds/bonehandledknife, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLune/pseuds/Primarybufferpanel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Lead</b> (sharp end of the rope, on point): To be the first climber up a pitch and to place protection along the way while being belayed by a partner from below.</p><p>
  <i>“...what do you mean the lumps are removeable?”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lead

A few relatively quiet days passed. The Tribunes presented the new sigil and presented Furiosa and Ace with their new belt hangers during midday meal, the cheers rang loud that day and the halls were abuzz with stories of their various runs, but also of Tribune Toast’s new permanent paint. She’d marked over the skull brand with black, making it into the image of a tree. Some had gone up to her afterward and asked if they could mark theirs over with anything, at which point Miss Giddy had stepped up and taken the rest of the questions, to Feng’s chagrin.

Ace was wondering about that himself, he liked the wheel even if it turned his stomach that it was the Immortan’s sign, but wasn’t sure if he’d understood the tree enough to be re-marked with it. He approached the History Woman so as to ask. 

But he found her avidly listening to an increasingly loud argument between Gale and Feng about 'permanent body alteration', and so shrugged and settled next to her for a listen. Mayhap it was a lover’s quarrel over tattoos? Gale defending Giddy’s honor? Feng being either taken to task by a friend or challenged by another suitor? He found himself wishing for a snack while he watched.

“So what’re they on about?” Ace asked Giddy, hoping for some gossip.

Giddy seemed surprised that he’d gotten so near without her noticing but said easily, “Removing them lumps of yours.”

“Eeh?” Ace tried to reorient himself.

She turned back to Ace and furrowed her head, “Thought it was talked to you some, about them being cut out.”

“Seems pretty quick though to talk about it already,” Ace had imagined it to be some far off plan, difficult to achieve as the Organic Mechanic hadn’t seemed inclined to such. Hadn’t even tried imagining it for himself, to be honest.

“That’s what they’re on about,” she gestured at the argument, “can’t seem to agree on even how to announce it or if it’s right to demand that all have to cut them out.”

"Joe woulda just ordered us, if it was what he wanted."

"You hear that, Feng?" Miss Giddy raised her voice a little. The argument quietened down abruptly. 

"Hear what?"

The old woman nudged Ace, and he repeated, "Joe woulda just ordered us, if it was what he wanted."

Feng’s face twisted up like she smelled something awful. “And all the war boys would submit to it, if we did that?”

Ace shrugged uncomfortably, “It’s the New Citadel, right?”

“Would you really consider acting like Joe would have done?" Gale asked Feng. "Because I'm here with the understanding that things will be different now."

“ ‘s plenty different.” Ace pointed out, unsure why he said that. 

"And _none of those changes will matter_ if we're willing to order people to undergo medically unnecessary permanent body alterations," Miss Gale said sharply, her tone somehow impossibly weary. 

“ They’re  _ tumors _ ,” Feng declared. "What's there to talk about?"

And then they were off again.

“Yeah,” Ace huffed, exchanging a wry glance with Giddy, “That’s going to need some discussion.”

* * *

 

“Where’s this Dispute you were saying, between a Soundless and the desert women?”

“Look, look over there.”

“Man they’re really going at it.”

“Keeping it clean though.”

“Pretty boring if you ask me, I thought there'd be some good punchin'”

“And what are the chances of the desert woman winning even, eh?” Kaybar leaned in, “What’re the odds?”

“Pft, ‘course the Soundless will win, what are you saying.”

“Care to make a bet on it?”

“So what are they even disputing over?”

…

“ ...what do you mean the lumps are  _ removeable?” _

* * *

 

Gale let out a long sigh as she settled down in Furiosa's quarters. “It wasn't my intention that the war boys found out like that, but it’s my own blasted fault.”

"So who won?" Austeyr asked, somewhat more intently than she was expecting.

"We agreed that Feng will do the surgery, and I will make sure that anybody on that table is there voluntarily and understanding the risks."

"But who  _ won _ ?” Rachet insisted, “I have rations riding on it."

Miss Gale gave them a very dry look and then cut her eyes to Furiosa. 

"The warboys are worried. Even with Capable explaining, they don't trust the Soundless, they'd rather live with the lumps," Furiosa agreed. 

Ace had a feeling like he knew where this was going. 

"Is that a problem? Keeping ‘em? You said the lumps themselves weren't causin’ the war boys to sicken. Why would the Archive want to order us if it's not necessary to cut the lumps?"

"Feng doesn’t want them there at all, that’s our argument. She doesn't think you could make the decision, that any who would choose to avoid it is Joe-poisoned and childish, so we should just order you to have surgery."

The warboys were silent. Ace thought that it was true they were Joe-poisoned, but he felt uneasy with the thought of the warboys being ordered to the cutting room. It didn't feel like that was something the Tribunes would do. 

"I feel it's not a problem if the lumps are not malignant, growin’ too fast I mean. If the lumps grow slowly, they are benign - they probably won't kill the person, or not for a really long time. We—” Gale made an aborted gesture of frustration “—or rather _I_ want to offer the option of having them removed because for some, life would probably be more comfortable without the lumps.”

She glanced at the war boys, seeming to take them all in, the way they were clustered in Furiosa's room. Ace shifted uncomfortably, and exchanged looks with the others.

“You mentioned that yours press on your windpipe, right?"

"You want me to go first." It was half question, half conclusion. 

"Well—" she hesitated. gestured to his neck. "Not those, we want to do some in less difficult locations first.” Furiosa’s crew were all looking at each other uneasily. “We were hoping you could talk to the warboys, see if anybody is willing to vo—"

"I'll do it," Austeyr said suddenly. When Gale turned to him, he stood up from the window ledge and lifted his arm, showing her the lumps along his side. "Been bothering my aim, so I don't mind you learning your cuttin' on me."

Gale glanced at Furiosa, who had been observing quietly. She shrugged, indicating it wasn't her decision to make. There was worry in her eyes.

“Better me than th’others right? These should be nothing, right?” Austyer asked, and Ace couldn’t figure if he was questioning or stating or comforting anyone, so odd was his voice.

“Simpler.” Furiosa agreed, toneless. 

"They'd be a good start," Gale said, clapping her hands. "Tomorrow at noon, so we'll have the most light. Make sure you scrub clean, all the clay off your skin, yes?"

Austeyr flinched a little, but nodded. 

There was a long moment of quiet.

Rachet had been stewing quietly during their conversation, looking restless and uneasy at the talk of Austeyr being cut on. Finally he spoke up again, all but burst out: “But who won th—”

“ We  _ compromised _ .” Gale said, exasperated.

Rachet looked at Austeyr confused, “Does that mean we both get half a ration then?”

Gale threw up her hands and left the room.

* * *

 

That night, Austeyr shifted uneasily just outside the doorway, trying not to think of much at all. After Miss Gale and Furiosa had said to stop wearing the paint, he'd let it wear off. It had seemed a waste of rags and water to wash off fresh paint, and if he were honest, he'd needed a little time to get used to the idea of his own bare skin. He'd worn the paint as long as he could remember, to look as much like the others, like Joe, as he could. He'd even applied it on his legs, wanting to look as right as possible even under his clothes.

Then they'd discovered that plain clay helped at least some against the sun, and it looked different, grey and more flakey, but he'd taken to use it nonetheless. He'd brushed off the flakes of dried clay in the evening so he didn't leave it in the Boss' bed, but he'd still been dusty grey with it, gone patchy where bits had rubbed off. 

Now, having wiped it off all careful and thorough, he felt bare and wrong, not at all confident of his welcome in Furiosa's quarters. 

She'd said his skin was shine, but he didn't think she'd ever seen him completely without paint. She’d seemed so intense that other night and he’d felt so raw with how she looked at him; what if that had only been with that bit of clay making him a little paler? She'd seen spots where it had rubbed off by his pants, maybe, but he'd never used water to get the last dusty smears off. 

What if she didn't think it was shine anymore when she saw him? 

"You, mm, going in?"

Austeyr jumped a little at hearing Max behind him. The man's eyes slid over him, took him in, and Austeyr felt his heart pound, but Max didn't seem surprised or displeased.

"Y-yes," he said, but didn't quite managed to make himself move. Max waited, and after a moment, lightly put his hand on Austeyr's back and nudged him forward and through the door.

Ace and Furiosa were already on the bed. From the looks of it Ace had just helped her remove one of her new arms; his big hands were curled around her shoulder to warm and massage the muscles that were sore from the new and different strain they'd been under, and breaking in the new leathers. They both looked up when they heard Austeyr and Max, and Austeyr froze just inside the door. Max moved past him to settle down on his ledge.

Furiosa took her time to look Austeyr over, eyes travelling down his torso, then back up. He felt the hair on the back of his neck rise, but she did not… not look displeased. He wasn't all that confident of his ability to read her face, in this moment, but he did distantly realise that.

"Aus," she said, and held her hand out to him, asking him to help her up, and he shook himself and went over to pull her to her feet.

She didn't let go of his forearm when she got to her feet, instead surged forward, her eyes intent on his. If it were anybody but crew, anybody but  _ her _ , he might have thought he were being challenged to a fight, but he backed up and against the wall where she seemed to want him, breath rushing out of him when she pressed her whole body up against his.

She put her mouth to his shoulder, and he gasped involuntarily at the damp heat of her lips, at the suction, at the intensity of being pinned against the wall like this. She had one leg between his, leaning into him from hips to shoulders. His head felt light with the relief of being touched by her, not reluctantly or disapprovingly but with— with  _ enthusiasm _ .

She hummed and her mouth moved wetly toward his neck, and his head tipped back without any input from him, his hands idly trailing her sides. She'd never much used her mouth on them, and this was completely new, an alien sensation that made his fingers twitch and his breath grow ragged.

Just when he thought he had his breathing back under control she scraped the side of his neck with her teeth, and a bolt of heat shot down his torso to where she was pressed against his hardness. He made an inarticulate noise that made her chuckle against his skin. She drew back and pulled his head down so she could look at him, and her eyes were gleaming with laughter, she was  _ grinning _ , and Austeyr made a helpless little sound at the sight of her.

"Been wanting to do that without getting a mouth full of paint," she chuckled. When she backed away from him he almost stumbled after her, immediately missing the warm press of her body against his.   

He followed her down onto the bed, and she lightly pressed him down onto his back. Took one of his hands and placed it on her thigh, patting it twice, and he nodded, understanding the intention. If something was too much for her, she'd pat or tap twice on one of them, same as they would do during sparring. They each knew they could do the same, but that had never been needed. His pulse picked up at the thought of what she might have in mind to remind him so explicitly of the stop signal.

"You made such nice sounds just now," she mused idly. "I want to hear some more."

He opened his mouth to ask what she meant, and then she was trailing her blunt nails across his chest, down to his stomach, and he made a strangled little noise.

 

Some indeterminable time later he was in the middle of the tangled pile of them. Furiosa draped half over him, petting his chest in an approving sort of way. Ace and Kompass had ended up holding him down while she chased some kind of wild squeaking laugh he'd produced when she licked the back of his knee.

Once his dignity had gone entirely out the window she'd made sure he was still being held down and then she'd used her mouth on his cock, something none of them had ever done. He'd probably made strange sounds and he thought he might have begged her, not for anything in specific that he could remember. He could remember her satisfied smirk all too well though, didn't think he'd forget  _ that  _ anytime soon. 

He'd be embarrassed about the sounds he'd made if he wasn't still basking in the glow and the awe of receiving her full, undivided focus for so long, that he'd been made to just lie back and and enjoy instead of thinking or doing. Right now he could not bring himself to care about anything he'd done, with Furiosa pressed into his side and his entire body a limp, twitchy mess of raw nerves and utter contentment.

He couldn't even begin to care about the prospect of being cut on tomorrow. 

* * *

 

Furiosa was naked on top of Max, bright eyes fixed on his. His heart beat with wild joy at the way they were wrestling, measuring themselves, and at how strong she was. 

His left hand on her throat, and her eyes danced with arousal as he used his grip on her to pull her down and toward him, bringing her mouth close enough for a hard kiss. His hips pumped up into her, and his free arm wrapped around the small of her back, keeping her close.

He groaned into her mouth, hips stuttering, and opened his eyes too look into hers. He didn't think he was squeezing her throat but her body was going relaxed, and her eyes looked glassy, and—

Max woke with a gasp of horror, his hips still twitching sticky mess into his pants. Clawed around until he managed to turn over on… on the ledge in Furiosa's quarters. Found the shapes on the mattress in the low light, Furiosa safely tucked between Austeyr and Kompass. 

Then he slowly, carefully got up and edged around them to the door, needing some time to himself. Max managed to get out of the room without waking anybody. Closed the door quietly behind him.

Then leaned against the wall in the corridor and clawed at his face, strangling a shout in his throat, trying to dispel the memory of the dream. He wanted to give her everything she deserved, every gentle caress and careful touch he had to offer, every bit of pleasure he could coax out of her body. Why the hell was he dreaming this— this  _ horror  _ of overpowering her, trapping her to take his pleasure? And now, of all times, with everyone tense and distracted and distressed.

He definitely shouldn't touch her if this is what his dreams made of it. In fact, he shouldn't be in the same room as her right now. He looked around, heart rate slowing a little at the realisation that he didn't have to be, that he had options. Kompass had said to pick any of the rooms down this hallway. 

Max hurried towards them like the desert itself was chasing him.

* * *

 

The warboy turned up at noon as instructed, body almost vibrating with something that seemed to be part excitement, part tension. Gale was pleased with having him as their first candidate for the surgery; his lumps were well placed for it, and he had both the social standing and the social skills to speak with any other warboys who might consider going under the knife. Plus, having the first be one of Furiosa's own indicated the Imperator's trust in the new medical team, and Gale knew enough about the Warboys to know that didn't count for nothing.  

Without any clay, Austeyr's skin was the colour of healthy earth in the Green Place, and Gale cursed Joe all over again for making the boy believe his skin shouldn't be seen.

Feng was readying her tray of equipment, her assistant fiddling with the makeshift mask they would use to administer laughing gas. Gale knew she could have probably managed to remove an uncomplicated tumour herself, but Feng had been trained as a surgeon, so she was happy to cede the scalpel to the older woman. Gale would be assisting, learning, they had agreed on that. Her main purpose here today though was to speak to the warboy and put him at ease. They were all scared of the Soundless and especially of Feng, and Feng had no love for them; Austeyr seemed all too glad to focus on Gale and ignore the Soundless as much as possible. 

"Gas?" he frowned when she explained to him what they would do. "Why?"

"So as you don't feel it happenin'."

"No need," he said decisively. "I can handle it. Better me than-- Organic never-- he'd just give ya something to bite on. No need to waste stuff on me."

"If I had a local, I'd use that," Feng said without looking up.

"Local?" 

"Numbing just in the place where it's needed. But I don't have any, and I am  _ not-- _ " she made an angry tsk sound, "Organic. If you don't want the gas, we're not doing this."

Austeyr's eyes grew wide, and he looked at Gale as if seeking support. She remembered some of the stories she'd heard about how the 'Blood Shed' had used to run, about how Furiosa hadn't wanted to go there and hadn't wanted to leave her crew there overnight, and suddenly had a notion what this might be about. 

"You won't be out long. Soon as the cutting and stitching is done the mask comes off, and you'll wake up not long after." She added, "I'll stay with you the whole time."

"Not keeping you on the ledges longer than needed," Feng added. "Soon as I'm sure everything’s stitched up well and holding, you can go back to the barracks. Or your Imperator's quarters."

"Oh."

After a long moment of consideration he hopped up onto the big stainless steel table, his eyes seeking out Gale again. 

"You'll witness me, right?"

Gale thought about trying to explain that he wasn't going to die, but he seemed so earnest, hesitant to ask this of her but clearly thinking it important, that she just nodded. She patted his hand in an automatic gesture that surprised both of them.  

"I will."

"Good." He laid back on the table, contents of his pockets jangling as he stretched his long legs. "Cut away."

Feng spent a little while palpating the lumps, positioning Austeyr's arm this way and that so she could reach easily. She explained to Gale and her assistant as she did, let them feel too. The tumours were surrounding his armpit, and Gale wasn't surprised there were inhibiting Austeyr's motion - they pressed down into the muscles and like as not were compressing nerves.

"Are you gonna cut them all away?" Austeyr asked, with detached curiosity. 

"I don't know how long it'll take, so I'm going to start on this big one," Feng said, much less sharp now, as if some old ingrained bedside manner had finally connected to this setting. "And see how it comes. If needed we can do a second session to get them all."

Austeyr nodded in understanding. 

"All right, we're going to put the mask on you, and then I want you to list all your tools, starting with your favourite."

Gale stayed at Austeyr's shoulder, making sure the warboy could see her as he faded in the middle of describing a knife he'd inherited from another warboy. 

* * *

 

"Hey."

Austeyr blinked up into Furiosa's face, confused how he'd come to be lying on his back on some kind of cold bench. He felt groggy and a little sick, and his side hurt. 

_ Oh. That.  _

"Told ya not to come down, Boss," he said, tongue not quite cooperating. The whole point of him getting cut on had been to show the other warboys that it was no big deal. Furiosa coming with him would have defeated the point. He wasn't sure why she would have wanted to, anyway. 

"When have I ever done what you tell me?" she said, but it sounded fond, not admonishing. She ghosted the back of her fingers over his cheek and it felt like an echo of her touches the night before. He felt his face grow warm, and she smiled. A little deviously, he thought. 

Furiosa stretched, turning to somebody out of his range of vision. 

"How'd it go?"

"I had to leave some smaller ones, but it went well enough. Motion ought to be easier now."

"That's good. When can he leave?"

"In an hour or two. I want to keep an eye on things a little longer."

Furiosa nodded, patting Austeyr on the shoulder. 

"I'll send somebody to get you, yeah?"

He nodded muzzily.

A while later he was awake and getting bored, and the old woman Feng came in without Miss Gale this time. She looked at his side again, poking and prodding. He tried not to grimace at the sharp pain, but she made sounds as if she wasn't unhappy with what she found. It was easier to ignore the pain knowing that the whole thing was successful, that he could choose to be here instead of one of the others taking the hit, and let them all know what to expect.

"Nothing strenuous for a week, you hear me? Especially no lifting your arm over your shoulder."

"Nothing strenuous," Austeyr repeated, eying her a little warily. 

"Yeah, strenuous. Do I need to define that?"

"Nothing with stren, so, no strength," Austeyr reasoned. He wasn't stupid. 

"Yes, just lie back and think of england," the old woman said sharply, "like you make your Imperator do."

Huh. So that's what it was called. Furiosa made him do that just yesterday. It’s nice that they have a word for it now, he’ll have to tell the others.

* * *

 

The Sisters and the Vuvalini stood in front of the wall in the Council room, watching as Deka and Vicky applied the last of the oily paint mix. The new symbol of the Citadel was as high as Deka could reach, its bold white lines dominating the space. 

"I feel like there should be a ceremony."

"For the Warboys?"

"For everyone, for the Citizens we’ve let in, for the crafts boys and the repair boys and the greenthumbs  and all the others who were here but hidden by War, but especially for the people outside. Kind of like a crowning symbol of all the changes."

"Ohh," Cheedo perked up. "We can ask the warboys to paint it on the rock face, over the skull!"

The skull symbol had been attacked with fervour, but it had been carved so deep into the rock that it was still visible. Especially with how deep it had been carved into everybody's memories. 

"It'll be a sign visible for miles that things have changed here."

A tree, protected in a circle, they thought. Maybe it won’t be pristine, drawn over the scars like that, but it’ll be perfect.


End file.
